Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Soul Searching ❯ Vacation From Hell ( Chapter 1 )

Soul Searching

Disclaimer: As If this is really necessary, No I don't own DBZ.

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This chapter dedicated to the memory of Jacquelyn Jones (1949-2003).

Rest in peace mama. I'll see you when I get there.

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Chapter 1: Vacation From Hell

-Cruise Ship Suite, Deck 8-

"Come on Bulma, hurry it up will ya! We're gonna miss out on all the fun if you take any longer," Yamcha whined as he leaned impatiently against the wall outside the bathroom currently occupied by one Ms Bulma Briefs.

Bulma rolled her eyes at hearing the annoying whine of Yamcha's voice through her bathroom door. Slamming her hair brush down on the porcelain counter, she rapidly strummed her fingers upon its smooth surface in an attempt to calm herself before answering.

"Look buddy, you of all people should know that I don't go anywhere until I'm good and ready and I'm NOT ready yet!" came her irritable reply.

Satisfied that she'd received no further argument from him, she returned to the daunting task of making herself publicly presentable. Leaning in closer to the mirror, she puckered her lips to apply her favorite shade of red lip balm. Staring at her reflection, she realized that she couldn't quite rid herself of the un-becoming frown that seemed to have settled itself permanently upon her lovely face. What was even more vexing were the troubling thoughts concerning the current state of her substantial relationship with Yamcha.

These little "exchanges" with her steady boyfriend of nine years had been becoming more frequent as of late. Their relationship had always been fraught with petty power plays and fits of jealous rage stemming from both parties.

In the past she'd simply attributed their stormy encounters to their immaturity. After all, they were both just sixteen years old when they'd met. They had practically grown up together, each never having experienced a serious relationship with another partner, and neither really wanting to at the time.

She knew that the tension between them now stemmed mainly from her new interest in becoming a more active player in her father's business and Yamcha's long time obsession with the martial arts, not to mention his Pro Baseball career.

Apparently, Yamcha had realized this too and in an attempt to salvage the failing union, or at least the friendship, convinced her to go away with him on an exclusive month long cruise into deep space. He said it would be a sort of vacation from the things that were pulling them apart. A chance to cut loose and have some fun, something they had not experienced as a couple in quite some time.

Sounded like a great idea. Space cruises were all the rage now and she'd been absolutely dying for an excuse to go on one. And why wouldn't she? The ships were huge and lavishly furnished, having every amenity a woman of her status could ask for.

This particular vessel housed three observation decks, each with a stunning view of the stars and countless galaxies. They were the perfect places for star gazing and simply being in the company of that someone special.

Everything about this trip just screamed fun and romance and perhaps it would have been all that and more if it weren't for the unexpected appearance of one of the couple's mutual friends.

"How the hell could Krillin of all people, afford this kind of trip anyway?" she thought to herself as she checked her makeup one final time in the mirror.

Actually, she didn't really have a problem with Krillin being there. It was the blue-haired, bubble head he'd chosen to drag along with him that was the cause of Bulma's true irritation.

Bulma had never met anyone as rude and as utterly brain dead as that tramp named Marron. For every moment spent in the girl's presence Bulma could feel her own intelligence level drop a notch.

Now lack of intelligence in a person could be forgiven; after all, Bulma wouldn't expect everyone to be as ingenious as her. She may have even been willing to ignore Marron altogether if it weren't for the fact that the girl never seemed to miss an opportunity to insult Bulma concerning her age (which is only 25!).

As it were, Bulma had spent the past week trying in vain to avoid the little nuisance least she rip her pretty little head off and shove it up her ass were it belonged for what good it actually did her atop her shoulders.

Glancing at her watch she realized that she'd kept Yamcha waiting a good twenty minutes. They were supposed to be meeting Krillin and Marron in the ship's dance hall for drinks and maybe some dancing and she had been purposely dragging her feet in an attempt to prolong what she knew would be her inevitable confrontation with Marron.

With a heavy sigh she grabbed her purse and put on her best "don't give me any shit" look in preparation for the berating she anticipated from Yamcha upon her emergence from the washroom.

Swinging open the door she strode out into the living quarters of the spacious suite and turning to a now seated Yamcha, announced pointedly, "NOW, I'm ready."

Much to her utter confusion, he merely sat there, one leg crossed over his knee, left arm resting comfortably upon the arm of the leather sofa on which he sat, his left hand cupping his strong chin as his index finger tapped gently against his cheek. A look of pure concentration set upon his boyishly charming face and directed solely upon her.

Unsure of his current mood, she raised a wary brow and stared expectantly into his smoldering dark eyes. She couldn't be sure but it seemed as if he were actually assessing her appearance. He was most likely trying to figure out what it was that she had been doing to herself in there that would take this long to complete.

Yamcha was definitely irritated with his hot-tempered girlfriend but he knew better then to start an argument with her. Their verbal battles were known to get really ugly and sometimes the biting insults were more then enough to have them each on the receiving end of a cold-shoulder for weeks on in.

No, an argument with the infamous Ms Briefs was not on his "things to do" list tonight. Instead, Yamcha chose to employ a technique that often proved to calm his nerves and focus his mind on whatever task he had at hand. He simply made himself comfortable on one of the room's plush leather sofas and drifted into a state of light meditation.

Before long, all the mounting anger he had felt moments earlier had slowly drained away. He strangely found himself concentrating on all the things he loved about his relationship with Bulma and about the woman herself. He wondered on how she could drive him to near insanity with just one word but then just as quickly tame him with a simple touch. Even when she was the very cause of his distress he couldn't help thinking of her. It was at those times when she was giving him hell that he felt most alive, like he was worth something. He was worth her furry, her passion, and her… genius. How could he not care for her?

He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been sitting there thinking of her but he found his thought process abruptly terminated when the bathroom door suddenly swung open. As he slowly opened his eyes, he was vaguely aware of some comment forming on her lips before being struck speechless by her enchanting beauty.

Yamcha couldn't help but think to himself what a lucky bastard he must be to have this most extraordinary woman, and while he was certainly drawn to her for more than just her stunning good looks, he refused to deny himself the pleasure of drinking in some of her more esthetic qualities. She chose to wear her cheek-length locks of aquamarine wisped about her angelic face tonight. He loved her hair like that. It drew more attention to her brilliant sapphire eyes and those perfectly kissable lips. Her skin appeared like flawless porcelain in the artificial lighting of the room and there was plenty of it to behold, courtesy of her tastefully revealing dress.

He had never seen her wear this little number before. It was a navy blue dress that sported a subtle cream floral pattern. The sleeves were completely see through and flared at the ends. The plunging neckline dipped just low enough to show a respectable amount of cleavage and the hemline of the garment flattered her shapely legs. To top it all off she wore a sexy pair of strappy pumps adding about two inches to her petite height. She was definitely a picture of femininity.

After a few awkward moments of silence, he rose from his seat and without a word, made his way towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. When he was within arms length of her, he reached out and grabbed a wrist in each of his hands, pulling her flush against his body.

Any protests she may have had in mind were quickly squelched when he gently grabbed her chin, bringing her lips softly in contact with his own. Her small gasp of surprise provided him with the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, the very flavor of her flooding over his senses as he took his time tasting her thoroughly.

The heat radiating from his body along with the spicy sent of his flesh so close to her sensitive nostrils had her head in a fog she didn't want to shake. All too soon for her liking, he had broken the sensuous kiss in favor of teasing one of her acutely sensitive ears with his soft lips.

The warmth of his steadily exhaled breathes against her earlobe sent goose bumps down her back and over her arms.

"You look absolutely gorgeous tonight," he whispered in her ear.

The beginnings of a coy smile touched the corners of her lips as she purred her reply. "Well off course I do silly. This is what you get when you show a little patience."

He pulled away from her a little to gaze down into her shinning blue drowning pools. Tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, he gave a little sigh before speaking once again.

"Yeah, but you and me both know that you never need more than a minute to look like a goddess. Now we're going to be late and you know how I feel about being late," he purred softly.

Draping her arms loosely around his neck, she begin to playfully run her fingers through the thick strands of his ebony hair, her intent, to undo the tie that presently held the long locks in a pony tail.

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to make it up to you somehow," she smirked impishly, her fingers slyly working to free his hair.

"Oh, here's an idea. How about we skip the club and start the makeup session now?" she suggested, all the while massaging his scalp and fiddling with the uncooperative hair band in the hopes that he was feeling just as horny as she was at the moment.

To her utter dismay, he once again grabbed her wrists stilling her hands from their current task of "loosening him up".

"Sorry beautiful, but you won't be getting out of this that easily," he lightly scolded her.

Seeing that her attempt at seduction had failed miserably she sighed heavily and relented. "Oh well, Can't blame a girl for trying." Not wanting Yamcha to see her disappointment, she turned her gaze downward to stare at her feet.

"I suppose it would be rude to stand them up after agreeing to join them," she added wryly.

Cupping her face with both of his hands, he returned her wayward gaze back to his face. "Bulma, if this is about Marron, I promise you we'll only stay twenty minutes tops out of courtesy to Krillin and then we're out of there."

Leaning down he placed a soft kiss upon her forehead to seal his promise. "Then we can come back here," he coaxed, "and I'll spend the rest of the night making it up to you. So how about it beautiful? Are you up for it?"

There was no way that Yamcha could have possibly known how much relief washed over Bulma when he acknowledged her dislike for Marron. Maybe now she wouldn't have to endure as many aggravating evenings in her presence since he knew good and well how she felt about her.

"Fine Yamcha, but let's get this one thing straight. After tonight, I do NOT want to be subjected to that woman again while we are on this ship! Understood?"

"Perfectly," he smiled triumphantly.

Quickly he grabbed the room keys from the bar and shoved them into his pocket and gently gave her hand a tug, signaling for her to follow him. "Let's get this over with. We have a lot of making up to do afterwards," he smirked, the room door clicking shut lightly as they walked briskly down the hall towards the dance hall.

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-Cruise Ship Dance Hall-

The music in the dance hall was almost unbearably loud. Krillin sat coolly at the bar, drink in hand, searching the throngs of bodies for any sign of his friends Yamcha and Bulma, or his girlfriend Maron for that matter. She had gone off to make a request to the DJ about fifteen minutes ago and he hadn't seen hide or hair of her since.

The fast paced beat of the music began to die down and a mellower beat filled the room. Some of the party goers who had been dancing for a while begin to clear the dance floor in favor of a few drinks at the bar to quench their thirst. It was then that Krillin spotted the familiar scared visage of his best friend Yamcha heading in his general direction, and Bulma not far behind.

"Hey Yamcha! Bulma! Over here," he called out, waving them to the bar.

For a moment there was a glimmer of hope as Bulma could not see Maron anywhere in sight as she and Yamcha approached Krillin at the bar. Perhaps she'd been sucked out of an open air-lock.

"What a tragedy that would be," Bulma mused to herself, a small smile gracing her lips at the thought.

Unfortunately for the blue-haired genius, that was not to be as Maron, seemingly out of nowhere, enthusiastically bounded up to Krillin's side, wrapping herself around his strong upper arm.

"Damn it," she muttered to herself, carefully maintaining her pleasant smile as she drew nearer her friend and tormentor.

Apparently Yamcha had heard her disappointed murmur fore the next thing she knew, he was leaning over to whisper a stern warning into her ear, "Be nice Bulma…"

"Can't make any promises." She tightly shot back through clenched teeth, all the while beaming her brightest smile for the benefit of her long time friend and his date.

Upon their arrival at the bar, Krillin quickly abandoned his seat to greet his friends. Maron was at his side ready to welcome their fashionably late guests.

"Hey guys! I thought you weren't going to show there for a minute." Krillin chuckled lightly as he and Yamcha clasped hands briefly in greeting.

"Not a chance man," Yamcha quickly responded. "It just took Bulma a little longer than usual to get ready. You know how it is."

With that, Yamcha smoothly wrapped an arm around Bulma's slender waist to which her only reply was a mildly annoyed "Hmph".

"Yeh, I hear ya. But man I must say the wait was well worth it. Wow Bulma, you look great!" Krillin enthused while giving her the once over.

"Well thank you Krillin!" she blushed. A genuine smile alighted her face. "See Yamcha, proof positive that some men can actually appreciate a woman's efforts."

All three friends laughed light-heartedly. The tempo of the music in the huge room seemed to be increasing, the rhythmic beats doing wonders to ease Bulma's fragile temper. She figured that if she could avoid any direct conversation with Maron then a major altercation could most definitely be avoided. In fact, she was quite surprised that Maron hadn't spoken a word since she and Yamcha arrived. This was quite unusual since the girl always seemed to have some bubble-headed comment to offer on just about everything.

Just by chance, Bulma happened to steal a quick glance in Maron's direction and found that her nemesis had been staring at her quite intently. As the two made eye contact, Maron's face seemed to brighten and Bulma could almost swear she caught the slightest hint of devilish twinkle in Maron's eyes.

"Oh oh, that can't be good," Bulma moaned inwardly.

"Gee Bulma, you really do look stunning," Maron beamed brightly. She then directed her gaze at Yamcha and lightly admonished him by adding, "You should really try to be more considerate Yamcha. There's a lot more things that need touching up on a woman Bulma's age. These things take time."

No sooner had the last word of Maron's innocent reprimand left her lips did Bulma's complexion visibly pale. Her charming smile replaced by an expression that could only be described as stupefied anger. Had she just heard what she thought she had? Did this girl really have such audacity as to openly insult the resilience of her natural beauty?

Instinctually, Yamcha tightened his arm around Bulma's waist, pulling her tensed body more closely to his own incase she had any thoughts of lunging forward to strangle the clueless girl.

"I'll keep that in mind next time Maron," Yamcha laughed nervously. Turning Bulma around in his arms so that she now faced him, he stroked her hair softly. His eyes pleaded with her to not be upset.

"Come on beautiful, let's dance". Before she could even organize her flustered thoughts into a scathing rebuttal, Yamcha was hastily whisking her away from the bar and onto the dance floor. As she was being pulled along into the throngs of dancers already packing the dance floor, she glanced back at the bar to see Maron innocently waving back at her.

"Strike one bitch," Bulma inwardly seethed.

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A/N: I had to stop here or it would have been quite possible that this would have never been posted (3 months to get this out, err). This may be hard to believe but this is not a Bulma/Yamcha fic. Don't worry; everyone's favorite race of space monkeys will be making an appearance soon . This chapter was relatively uneventful but that'll change in coming chapters.

Please review. I take constructive criticism well.